50 Another Life
by Resha04
Summary: 50 themes challenge from Silan Haye. Containing pieces of my unwritten fics and some headcanon. Spain and Romano as a family, friends, or a couple. Chapter 8 : "Because I just can't imagine Isabella and ballet," Marcello plopped down on the couch and set the shoes on his lap, still grinning.
1. Horse

**I've been very unmotivated in writing since the beginning of this semester and I really feel guilty for it -_- So I ask my friend, the kind Silan Haye, to give me 50 themes to get me motivated.**

**For my dear readers out there who might (or might not) still be waiting for the update of Memory of Colors and If I Die Young, I'm so very sorry that they are delayed for quite a long time. I will NOT drop them, but you have every right to.**

**So here's the first theme. The idea came from the giver of the themes herself, but I think I'm not doing very well with this -_- not writing for months make me rusty, though I only have myself to blame.**

**Disclaimer : I do not own Hetalia**

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1. Horse

Never once in his life the country of Spain thought of horse badly. They carry his soldiers everywhere, they pull carts, they aid them in battle on the ground.

But now, looking at that… cunning creature, sniffling at his little henchman and licking his cheeks, at that moment Spain wishes for nothing but to grab Romano and tears the vile creature away from him. And, and, and, Romano is laughing! Romano never laughs while with him, always scowling and angry, but to the creature which soaks his face with its saliva, he's laughing!

"You're jealous." Netherlands deadpans, looking at him fuming on his spot disinterestedly. "Jealous of a horse. No wonder you're so stupid."


	2. Ghost

**Here's the 2nd theme. I don't think I will write them orderly though. I'm trying the 2nd person POV here. Hope I don't fail too miserably.**

**This is an idea for a fic I've scrapped. I don't think it will ever get written, but this is just the glimpse of what it might be about.**

**Disclaimer : I do not own Hetalia**

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2. Ghost

Your new father is nice. He never gets mad. When you trip and break the decorations, or when your hand slips and the plate shatters, he never gets angry. He scolds you with a smile and a stern tone but never raises his voice, all the while cleaning the mess you make.

The room he prepares for you is everything a child ever dreamed of. The shelf is filled with picture books, the box is full of toys, and there's a window overlooking the backyard, straight to the tree whose branch holds a handmade swing.

You get homesick at the first nights and miss your brother so badly, but after a few days the house begins to feel like a home to you.

Everything finally seems to be getting better.

You have a home. You have a father who loves you maybe a bit too much he spoils you rotten, but you are a child so such matter does not concern you.

You are eight and have just spent your first month in your new home when the name slips your father's lips. You don't turn around or answer but when you finally turn to face him, he seems upset that you didn't. Some shirt you wear have tears on them and some have food stains you don't remember inflicting.

Then you are ten and notice that the game console has a save data you didn't make and the untouched squirrel plush toy has drool stains on it. When you crawl under your desk to retrieve your fallen pencil, you find scribbles and drawings on the hidden spot of the wall which you never made.

You turn twelve in what seems to be such a short time and your father's smile grows everytime he looks at you. You score average in your school report and you do well in soccer. You and your father stash the old toys safely in the attic and replaces picture books with books about heroes and pirates and space. You never question your father about the origin of the books even though they are most certainly not brand new and your father is not that poor to afford some children books.

When you hit fourteen you start to question the loving nickname. But when you ask your father, he smiles to you like there's nothing wrong, pinches your cheek like he always does, and says, "Because it _is_ your name, silly Lovi."


	3. Fake

**18th theme.**

**One of the plot bunnies. Take place in Haven!AU from the TV series with the same name. Romano is one of the people who has Trouble, and Antonio is as well. I didn't explain Antonio's Trouble here, but I gave a vague hint of what Romano's might be :)**

**Cookies for those who guess correctly.**

**Disclaimer : I do NOT own Hetalia**

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18. Fake

"Don't smile." He glares at him, his tone almost harsh. "Don't you dare fucking smile."

Antonio's smile melts like water, dripping down his face in little droplets of his desperate act to retain his sanity. "But Romano-"

The smaller cuts him off with another glare and starts walking down the street, hands in his coat pockets. The sky is still bright with the brilliant purple and opaque and orange, all blend into each other perfectly like a watercolor paint, but it's getting colder. Autumn is coming.

"I'm sorry," Antonio falls into steps next to him, watching the strands of dark brown hair rustled by the wind. "It's just… I do it out of habit."

"And something else," Romano mutters, just barely audible in the whistling of the sudden wind. He tugs on his earpieces uneasily and scoffs, but it comes out half-heartedly. Antonio can't suppress the frown from dawning on his face, light in the creases of his forehead.

"Were you listening again?"

Now it's the younger's turn to be uncomfortable. He shoots Antonio another half-hearted glare and nods.

Despite the faint irritation he feels, Antonio can't help but to smile lightly. "It's alright. Just don't do it again, okay?"

Romano scowls and throws his gaze forward, jamming his finger to the 'on' button of his music player with more force than necessary. "I will if you fucking stop faking your smile."


	4. Injustice

**25th theme. **

**AU of rookie-detective!Antonio and coroner!Romano. The case is taken from one of CSI's cases, but I forgot which CSI and which episode. ._.**

**Disclaimer : I do not own Hetalia or CSI**

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25. Injustice

Antonio wonders how the young man, younger than him by 2 years, can be very calm. The body has been cut open on the morgue table and his gloves are covered in blood. The coldness of the room and the smell alone make Antonio want to gag.

And the case related to the body makes him feel even worse.

"The digestive system's gone," Romano tells him, his voice even in the silence of the room. "Burned out. Whoever gave her the drink, they think it through very well, to commit such a gruesome but effective murder." His golden eyes are narrowed, whether in concentration or in anger, Antonio does not know. But he knows he's going to be sick. "Do me a favor and tell Arthur that I'll have the report ready by tonight."

At the lack of answer, Romano looks up from the opened stomach and at him, a scowl growing on his face. "Get fucking used to it, will you? And you call yourself a homicide detective?"

Antonio shakes his head and leans on the doorframe, halfway to the hall. He breathes in the neutral air and closes his eyes briefly. "I know. It's just…"

"Cruel? Inhuman?"

"All of them, and…" He opens his eyes and stares at the empty hallway, helplessness growing in the pit of his stomach up to his throat. "Unjust. The killer is still out there, maybe laughing and having fun, even after killing their friend like this."

"This world is never just." He turns to look at the younger man only to see him has gone back to his task. "Get used to it."

"Then what is it that we have to believe in if the world indeed is unjust?" For that moment he's desperate just to know the answer, gripping on the doorframe until his knuckles turn white.

"Figure it out yourself." Romano turns to look at him, golden eyes bore into his for a brief moment before snapping back to his task. "You're not that stupid to find the answer."


	5. Train

**Writing this while listening to Anywhere (Evanescence) and Recessional (Vienna Teng).**

**Disclaimer : Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Harumiya**

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10. Train

"You don't need to go through my stuff anymore, you know," Antonio pouted. Romano glared at him, half-heartedly, and the Spaniard laughed, rich and honey-warm in the cool blanket of the night.

"I need to! In case you decide to bring those… stupid things again." Antonio was amazed at how he could soften that one word, dulling the edge of the one thing about Antonio that was the truth. That made him love the boy more, his childhood friend, his best friend, the one he'd watched grow and spent time with, the one who had always stayed with him through thick and thin, the one whom he loved so very dearly.

He laughed again, and the train whistle drowned it in the shrill but comforting shriek of uncertain future and a way to somewhere. Romano was just trying to busy his hands. He was anxious, nervous maybe. Antonio could see the years spent hiding in the closet and merging himself with the ever-present shadow in the dark shade of his eyes, dark brown melting with honey-golden.

Romano lifted his eyes and their gazes met, the fleeting moment of the entire universe reflected in one's eyes, endless blue darkness and stars and comets and planets and everything and nothing, all and one. Antonio could see himself in the younger boy's eyes, the masks _all smiles and sun that was much too blinding, much too hot, the entire universe melting in its grace _and the truth _bitter honesty like solid shadow casted in the broad daylight, bare but ignored, unimportant_ _and unwanted._

"I trust you," Romano blinked, and the universe rippled, the past and the future collided, blending into each other until they were indistinguishable; but that moment was as sharp and colorful as a the earth itself, tangible and real. "You know that, right?"

The train slowed and came to a stop, its compartment doors opening in a loud hiss. Antonio's smile softened, like the scars under his sleeves, dots to be connected. He wrapped his arms around the other's torso and pulled him close, pressing him to his chest to feel his heartbeat.

"I know."

Two years and the trust never faded. It dimmed in his darkest time, weak in the presence of worry and fear of not doing the right thing. But he was never more thankful for that. He knew the scars connected would form the truth he, no, _they_ hid and would once again shun him from the world and the world from him. He knew that Romano still retreated into the closet sometimes, the shadow threatening to swallow his entire existence and drown the golden shade of his eyes.

But as the announcement sounded inside the station, dull and grey, they held onto each other and embraced the uncertain future.


	6. Medicine

**Set in Train!AU (10th prompt. I will continue to address the AU as such), but before the event in previous chapter.**

**Disclaimer : Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Harumiya**

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11. Medicine

_It's medicine_, Antonio said.

_It's medicine,_ Antonio always said.

_It prevents me from being depressed,_ Antonio always said.

Romano took _stole_ the medicine from his backpack, and when he got home he crawled into his closet. He had to use both palms to squish the medicine, snow white sugar on the bottom of his dark closet, white against black.

_It makes me happy_, Antonio said.

_Fuck you,_ Romano thought.

_Can I borrow some money?_ Antonio asked, guilt-ridden face and frantic eyes. _I really need it._

_Fuck you,_ Romano answered, but handed him what he had in his pocket. Antonio was his happy self again the next day.

_It's medicine,_ Romano thought, curling deeper into the closet and blew the snow white sugar from his fingers. It created snow, very light and momentary.

_It's medicine_, he thought, stealing another pack from Antonio's backpack another day. He was inside the closet again when he got home and created snow powder again.

"It's medicine," He said, blowing his fingers and was content with his own snow globe.


	7. Lullaby

**Warning : genderbend**

**Family!AU where Romano and Feliciano are Chiara's (fem!Veneziano) sons, Katrina (fem!Romano) and Antonio are married and Marcello (Seborga) is their first child. Fem!Norway is mentioned. You've been warned.**

**Disclaimer : Hetalia and the song belong to Hidekaz Harumiya and Vienna Teng respectively**

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8. Lullaby

Katrina woke up in the middle of a stormy night at the soft and hesitant tugging on her nightgown. She cracked one eye open, heavy with sleep, and saw a pair of wide, golden eyes staring at her.

"What's wrong, Feli?" She pushed herself into sitting position, her words accentuated with a long yawn. "Is it the storm?"

Her youngest nephew nodded before his brother smacked him across the head. "Idiot, it's just a stupid storm. Let's just go back to our room, Feli." She frowned when Romano gave her an unreadable glance. Another lightning flickered and lightened the room for a split second before a loud thunder that rattle the glass followed.

"B-but _fratello_,"

"We're fucking eleven," Romano hissed, impatient. "We can't keep going to _zia_ Katrina's room in nights like this. Come on."

"As much as I like it to see that you've grown into an adult, Romano, but I have to say I'm surprised." Shit, she sounded too much like Ingrid for her own liking. "And it's okay. Come here, both of you."

It wasn't okay at all, because Marcello had kept her awake until midnight and she'd only had two hours of sleep and there was a report she had to do as early in the morning as possible because it was due in the afternoon, but Katrina shifted closer to her sleeping husband to make room for them. Feliciano climbed almost immediately, nestling himself close to her, but Romano seemed hesitant.

"Get up here, Romano." She wouldn't take any of his confusing change of heart for now. She was sleepy, fucking sleepy, and who knows when Marcello would wake up asking for another meal?

The older twin obeyed on her stern tone and slipped under the quilt. "Good." She reached out to stroke his dark hair and felt him relaxing. "Now, what _ is_ wrong with you? You aren't usually like this." He had been keeping his distance for six months now, and she faintly remembered that it'd started when Marcello was born.

The addressed nephew was silent, playing with the thread of the quilt.

"Does it have something to do with Marcello?" He tensed. She'd hit the right spot. "Thought so."

"_Fratello_ said that we shouldn't bother you so much anymore, _zia_," It was Feliciano who spoke. Always was the ears and mouth of his brother. It was a complementary relationship, really. Romano made sure the bullies stay away from his brother, and Feliciano spoke for him.

"We aren't your children. Marcello is." She didn't expect the harsh words, but she'd seen the hurt tone coming.

Katrina frowned. She swore that this boy had grown faster than either she or Antonio had expected. He thought of things too old and too soon for children his age, though it wasn't caused by nothing.

Witnessing his mother's attempt of suicide and her trying to take them with her had taken the toll on him for a long time. He'd only started speaking full words again when Antonio took them into his family.

"Now listen here, young man," They both flinched at her stern tone, now clear from sleep. "Marcello _is_ my son, but both of you are my sister's son, which means, you are my children too." She saw Romano open his mouth to protest and cut him before he had the chance to. "That's just how things are. No need for any other reason. _Capisci_?" She had never been good in explaining this kind of thing.

"What your _zia_ wanted to say is," She swore she would get back at that bastard for pretending to be asleep all this while. "We are all family. You, Roma, Feliciano and Marcello, your _zia_ and me. In a family, there's no need for a feeling like that." He smiled at the glare she gave him and pulled her closer to him until she could feel his heartbeat. "So let's just let _zia_ Rina sing and we can forget about this whole who's whose child thing, alright?"

He reached farther to give a sluggish poke to Feliciano's cheek and a pat on Romano's head. The older twin didn't swat his hand away.

"You bastard sure taking a chance in this," Katrina mumbled and made a mental note to deprive him of his coffee in the morning. Antonio only chuckled. She sighed and pulled the quilt higher.

"Little child, be not afraid, the thunder explodes and lightning flashes, illuminates your tear-stained face,"

Antonio had gone back to sleep, Marcello was quiet in his crib, Feliciano's breath was even on her chest, Romano had closed his eyes, and Katrina felt her own eyes getting heavy again.

"I am here tonight,"


	8. Ballet Shoes

**Warning : genderbend, OC-ish  
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**Lullaby!AU (the AU in Lullaby chapter). Set 14 years after Lullaby chapter. Isabella is** not **an OC, not fully at least. She's fem!Spain with a tweaked personality. Still, I wouldn't call her an OC. You've been warned.**

**Disclaimer : Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Harumiya**

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12. Ballet shoes

"Give them back!"

Antonio sighed and capped his pen, glancing at a stack of test needed to be looked through and marked, before rising from his chair and to the living room.

"_Hermano_, I swear, if they're even fucking scratched-"

"They won't! I just want to take a look at them~"

Antonio had to resist the chuckle bubbling in his throat at the sight of his son's grin. "What did you do this time, Marcello?"

"Papa!" Like always, when she'd run out of patience, the younger sister would run to him seeking justice. "He took my ballet shoes, again!"

"I just want to look at them," With his mother's face and his father's attitude, it was hard to stay angry at Marcello. He was a good kid, but at the age of fourteen, he still found joy in teasing his sister.

"How many times have you said the same thing?" At twelve, Isabella was a mix of both her parents. She had her father's face and his attitude most of the time, but she was also surprisingly stubborn. And her impatience was just like Katrina too.

"You know that it's getting old, _chico_," Antonio told his son with a half-smile. "Why do you like teasing your sister about that so much anyway?"

"Because I just can't imagine Isabella and ballet," Marcello plopped down on the couch and set the shoes on his lap, still grinning. "I thought she would like street dancing, or maybe even one of your traditional dances, Papa. But not ballet."

The said sister sat down across him, frowning. "Why not? Ballet is a dance too."

Antonio had to admit that the possibility had never occurred to him before either. Raised around three male siblings, Isabella grew up playing war in the mud and climbing trees, playing baseball in summer and knee-deep at the garden in the spring. She learned swear words from Romano, running from Feliciano, and everything else from Marcello. She used to sit with her legs open until her mother scolded her.

She started to take an interest in dancing at young age, but she had only had interest for ballet recently. Marcello teased her endlessly for it.

"Indeed it is," It wouldn't do if they were still on it when their mother got home. Things could get noisy. "And what your sister wants to learn is up to her. Besides, didn't your mother teach you not to judge someone based on stereotype?"

Marcello raised both hands in surrender and handed the ballet shoes back to his sister, who accepted with a smile of triumph that looked so much like her mother's. "But you have to admit that it's true, Papa. Even Romano still laughs at the mental image." He stood and twirled around the room. "My _sorella_ and ballet."

Antonio and Isabella laughed at his antics.

"Oh by the way, I heard that f word earlier, so you still have to water the garden tomorrow for punishment, _chica_."

"Shit."


	9. Deprive

**Another one from the Train!AU, set after Medicine and long before Train.**

**Disclaimer : Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Harumiya**

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42. Deprive

Antonio's apartment was a wreck. Books and papers strewn across the floor, the drawers were all out and toppled over, the few mugs that once were inside the cupboard were reduced to mere shards on the floor.

It was almost funny, really. Because Antonio was always the neat one and Romano was the messy one. But now, his apartment looked like a model living place for the clean freaks compared to Antonio's.

He could've laughed, but he stayed still, back squared against the far wall, watching with a scowl to hide his trembling fear.

Antonio too was always the patient one, searching for things with gentle but quick hands while coaxing him to clean his room once in a while so he wouldn't have any trouble locating anything. He was always the one who tore through his things with uncaring hands, running out of patience quickly.

But now Antonio was the one tearing out his own apartment, throwing out drawers and sending books flying across the room. Romano knew what he was looking for, and he knew that if his childhood friend knew what he'd done with those, he might end up dead.

A part of him reminded him that this was Antonio, his childhood friend, who had fussed over him when he cried, defended him from the bullies, and had always laughed and tousled his hair even when other people left because of his attitude. This was Antonio, his best friend who was always there, sitting with him in the corner and letting himself be consumed by a shadow not his, who had always stood by his side through his growth and change. This was his Antonio, and he would never, ever hurt him.

But the part in him where everything was logical and the earth was the one spinning around the sun told him that this was Antonio, the one who'd been wearing his smile as a mask and pumping toxin through his own blood, sucking himself dry of any sanity. This was Antonio, who'd recently preferred the artificial light of his apartment to the warmth of the sun outside. This was Antonio, who yelled and beat and smeared people's blood on his own face when he was high. This was not his Antonio anymore, and he could very well do anything, from screaming to him until he was deaf to beating him into a bloody pulp on the floor.

Antonio finally stopped searching and turned his head to look at him, sunken green eyes and dark bags beneath them, his hair a messy frame around his sickly face. Romano felt his fear pumping through his blood, anxious and terrified and distrustful, and he almost felt guilty.

"Where did you hide it?"

He wetted his dry lips and looked at his childhood friend straight into his eyes. "I don't have those shits on me anymore."

For a split second there was betrayal in Antonio's eyes, raw and painful, before it changed into something animalistic and Romano ran to the door.

He reached outside in time and slammed the door closed to Antonio's face, listening to his pounds and wail, angry and betrayed and _how could you do this to me, you're not my friend._

He slid down to the floor with his back still against the door, drawing his knees to his chest and burying his head in his arms. His lies, white, white lies, what Antonio was looking for, were inside his pocket. They felt like sharp small needles stabbing his side. This time he didn't give in to fear and pity, and for that he felt relieved.

He still cried all the same, because his mind could say that this was not his Antonio as many times as it'd like, but he knew that it was not true. Antonio was just lost, and even though Romano was as lost as him, had always been, but this time he would be the one holding Antonio's hand and leading him back home, wherever that was.


End file.
